


you left the lights on for me

by thereisnobearonthisisland



Series: tumblr prompts [3]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012 Era (Phandom), Depression, M/M, Sad Dan Howell, Sad Phil Lester, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Reflection, angry phil lester, dan wants to get help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnobearonthisisland/pseuds/thereisnobearonthisisland
Summary: dan comes home to all the lights in the flat on after roaming london for almost twenty hours. phil's waiting up for him and wants to know where he's been.





	you left the lights on for me

**Author's Note:**

> based on a tumblr prompt: dan leaves the flat without his phone or telling phil, and phil is worried.
> 
> thank you to the anon who sent this! :) i think i did it a little backwards, but i wanted to play with how dan might be feeling, rather than phil.

The only thing Dan really registers when he finally steps into the flat is that every single light is on. It’s as if someone - Phil most likely, as Dan always tries to turn the lights off before he leaves - is afraid that something might be lurking in the shadows and is using the light as a shield against anything that might try to jump out and scare him. But that doesn’t seem right. Dan has always been the one who’s afraid of the dark, of what might be creeping in the unknown. Not Phil. Phil is the rational one, the one who _knows_ that nothing is going to get Dan in the night, but who always goes through every room and checks to make sure that nothing is hiding in the dark nooks and crannies. Just so Dan won’t be afraid. Every time, Dan feels like a baby, but Phil always assures him that there’s nothing childish about being afraid of the dark, that there’s nothing wrong with him. But there is. There is, and Phil’s too good for him.

Dan frowns as he pushes his way further into the flat. Even frowning feels like a lot of effort these days, strenuous and painful the way most unused muscles feel when you go to use them after a long reprieve. But Phil has turned all the lights on, and Phil never turns all the lights on. Clearly something’s upsetting him. And deep down, Dan knows that he should be upset by Phil being upset, but _upset_ is a feeling and he doesn’t feel much of anything. He kicks off his shoes, not really caring where they land. He can find them in the morning.

All the lights are on, but Phil is nowhere in sight. Part of Dan - the part that knows every action he _should_ take, even if his body doesn’t want to cooperate - itches to find Phil, to seek him out, to figure out what’s wrong and try to help him feel better. The other, more selfish, part of him just wants to crawl into bed and succumb to the leaden numbness that’s settled in his bones. With every step, Dan worries that he’ll crash to the floor. It feels like there are sandbags tied around his ankles and his wrists, and he doesn’t know how to cut them loose. He should go to Phil, but he doesn’t want Phil to see him like this. Maybe he can sleep on the sofa tonight instead of climbing into bed with Phil. Or at least close his eyes and try to convince himself that he’s sleeping when he’s really just counting down the seconds until the sun rises once again. Dan doesn’t really sleep well. Not anymore.

It’s a decent enough idea, he muses as he makes his way towards the lounge. At least this way he won’t have to worry about worrying Phil with his red-rimmed eyes and greasy hair. The light is on and flooding the entire lounge, but Dan’s eyes are trained on the floor. He just needs to try to make as little noise as possible, to make sure Phil doesn’t wake up to his leaden feet thudding against the laminate hardwood.

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?” Phil’s sitting on the sofa, staring straight ahead. He’s eerily calm, his back straighter than his perfect fucking hair, and the only real giveaway that he is, in fact, _not_ calm is the hand in his lap, clutching at something small, black, and rectangular so tightly that his knuckles have turned white.

“Hey,” Dan says softly, wincing at the way his own voice cracks from non-use. “I thought you’d be asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You thought...you thought I’d be asleep? Dan, do you have any idea what time it is?” He’s still not looking at Dan, opting instead to keep his eyes focused on some spot in front of him.

“Well, it’s dark outside. So maybe half ten?”

“Half ten?” Phil casts the rectangular thing to the side and buries his head in his hands. “Dan, it’s two o’clock in the morning. I haven’t seen you since you slipped out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn. I haven’t heard from you-” He pauses, reaching over to pick up the same rectangle he just discarded. “I haven’t heard from you all fucking day.” After what seems like ages, he finally turns to Dan with a sharp glare, holding the black rectangle out in the palm of his hand. It’s Dan’s phone, lit up with what must be fifty notifications, and Dan has never wished he had the ability to shrink in on himself more than he wishes he could in this moment.

He can feel his cheeks growing warm with each passing second, flushing red with embarrassment, shame, and something akin to indignance. Phil shouldn’t be reprimanding him when he already feels like shit. Or maybe he should. Whatever the case, Dan’s not sure he has enough fight in him to have this argument right now. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

“Oh, you’re sorry? Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

“ _Yes!_ ” It comes out louder than Dan meant it to, and he’s really not in the mood to start a fight tonight. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he speaks again. “I shouldn’t have left the house without telling you where I was going. I mean, I didn’t know where I was going, but I should have at least given you a rough estimate. And I shouldn’t have left without my phone. And I _definitely_ shouldn’t have stayed out for as long as I did.”

Phil’s quiet for a moment. The only sounds in the room are Dan’s laboured breathing and the ticking of an ancient clock on the mantle. Then, there’s a sniff, and Dan looks up to find Phil standing in front of him, much closer than he was before, looking back at him with damp eyes and a frown etched on his face. He takes another step towards Dan. Then another and another until their toes are touching and all Phil has to do is reach out for Dan to fall into his arms. And he does. Phil pulls him closer, locking his arms tightly behind Dan’s back, and buries his face in the crook of his neck. They stand like that for what could be minutes or could be hours, but Dan doesn’t really care at this point. Phil’s here, and he’s not letting go of Dan. Maybe Dan doesn’t deserve it, but he’s not about to turn this forgiveness, this love, away.

“Why did you do it?” Phil whispers finally. “Why did you do any of it? Why did you do all of it? Do you have any idea how worried _sick_ I was?” His hands have shifted to stroking up and down Dan’s spine, soothing over the sharp bones with a gentle touch.

Dan sighs, opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the right words to describe how he’s feeling today. He’s not sad, not really. He’s just...numb. Not really feeling anything at all. He doesn’t know how to tell Phil this, though. Phil’s the kind of person who feels everything all at once. How do you explain feeling nothing to someone who feels everything? Dan doesn’t know, but with Phil holding him like he’s a precious heirloom and breathing soft puffs of air against Dan’s neck, he thinks he’s definitely about to find out.

He opens his mouth one last time, not really sure what’s about to come out of it but ready to tell Phil exactly what he’s been feeling lately, why he’s been so distant. Just as he does, however, an icy shiver wracks his spine, and Phil seems to snap out of whatever trance he’s fallen under in Dan’s arms. When he steps back, though, hands gripping Dan’s upper arms like vices, he doesn’t look angry anymore. He looks frightened.

“Dan, you’re _freezing_ ,” he says. “Did you even take a coat with you when you left this morning?”

Dan looks down at his arms, which are, in fact, only clothed with the thin cotton of his long sleeve t-shirt. He doesn’t remember slipping his coat off when he walked in, which must mean that he wasn’t wearing one to begin with. And maybe he should be able to feel the chill that’s settled in his bones after nearly twenty hours of walking around outside in the late autumn air with no coat, but he just...doesn’t. He doesn’t really feel much of anything, actually. Just numb. The only real indication that his body has caught onto the feeling of something his brain hasn’t quite processed yet is that shiver that coursed through his entire body only a minute ago. Dan knows he should wrap himself in as many blankets as he can find, press himself close to Phil and pretend that everything’s okay, that they’re okay, that _he’s_ okay. But it’s not, and they’re not because he’s not.

Phil’s hands loosen around his arms, sliding upwards to squeezed Dan’s shoulders gently. “C’mere,” he says softly, and Dan is helpless to resist. He lets Phil tug him towards the sofa, lets him help Dan settle into cushions that will surely leave his back aching in the morning if he spends too much time on them. Once Dan is situated, Phil slides his hands up to his jaw and brushes his thumb lightly over Dan’s cheek. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Dan leans back into the couch, squeezing his eyes shut as Phil disappears for a few minutes. When he returns, it’s with a mound of blankets in his arms - some thick, some thin, and all of them sure to swallow Dan with warmth. One blanket at a time, Phil cocoons Dan in wool and cotton until he can’t move. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to move.

Phil doesn’t seem to mind, either way. He sits down beside Dan, resting his hand somewhere around where Dan’s knee should be, and turns to look at him without a word.

Talking hurts, and Dan doesn’t really want to _say_ anything right now, but Phil’s looking at him with expectant, wide blue eyes, and he can’t find it in himself to deny Phil this right now. He owes Phil the truth. Every last bitter drop of it. He sighs, leaning his head back against the top of the couch and staring at the blank ceiling above him as if that can somehow make this any easier. Dan’s never been good at expressing his feelings - at least not verbally, and he’s not really sure how he could express the feeling of nothing while he’s fucking Phil - but he needs to find a way to express himself now. He wracks his brain for the right words, but none come. The biggest problem with feeling numb sometimes is that your brain feels just as numb as the rest of you.

“Phil, I don’t feel good.” He’s not really sure where the words come from, but they spill out of his mouth like a cup of water has been tipped over inside of him.

Phil’s brow furrows and he reaches out to press a hand to Dan’s forehead. “You’re warm. Do you feel ill? Do I need to take you to A&E?”

Dan sighs, nuzzling his forehead further into Phil’s palm. “No, Phil, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what do you mean then? Do you want me to get you some paracetamol and just let you rest?”

“No. Phil...I don’t feel good because I don’t really feel anything at all.”

“Oh. Well maybe just stay under the blankets for a while. You were out in the cold for a long time. Your body just might need some time to warm up again.”

Dan shakes his head. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and it feels foreign. He hasn’t cried in so long, he’s almost forgotten what it feels like. “No, it’s not like that. It’s like. I don’t feel anything inside, and that translates to not feeling anything outside, but like. I’m not _happy_. I don’t think I can remember the last time I actually felt happy, and that scares the shit out of me.” Each word feels like he’s reopening a wound that’s only just scabbed over, but Dan can’t bring himself to stop. It hurts, but hurting is feeling, so maybe this is a good thing. “Sometimes it feels like I’m not even here. Like I’m watching from outside my own body as I go through my day, and I want to be able to shake myself and say _Feel something_ , but every time I reach out, my arms are too short. And I have to watch with horror as they shrink more and more and more until they’re nothing.

“I don’t even remember leaving the flat this morning. Do you know how fucked up that is? How fucked up it makes me feel when I go through day after day like a complete zombie? When I can’t even remember if I’ve done the most basic of things?”

Phil’s quiet for a moment. “Have you eaten today?” he finally says, barely a whisper.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles. “I’m not hungry and I can’t sleep, and I can’t feel much of anything, and some days I just want it all to end. I want me to end.”

He turns to look back at Phil finally, only to find wet blue eyes that mirror his own. “Okay,” Phil says softly. “How can I help?”

Dan shakes his head again. “You can’t. I think...I think I might need some professional help but I...I just don’t know where to start.”

Phil nods slowly. “Alright. We can start searching tomorrow. Or today, I guess. But will you do me a favour?”

“Anything,” Dan breathes. He doesn’t deserve Phil. He never has, and he doesn’t think he ever will, but here Phil is. Promising to help Dan get through whatever _this_ is.

“Try to get some sleep tonight?”

Dan frowns. He hasn’t been able to sleep for weeks, and the prospects of sleeping tonight are lower than ever. Nevertheless, he nods. “I’ll try.”

Phil doesn’t look convinced, which is just as good because Dan knows that any attempt he makes will be a weak one. Phil smiles sadly, though, and squeezes right around where Dan’s knee should be again. “Good. But first, I really think you should eat something. Can I at least make you some broth?”

It feels wrong, to make Phil go make a pot of broth when Dan knows he’ll probably only drink a quarter of it at most. But maybe it’ll make him feel better, feel like he’s able to do something to help Dan. Maybe it’ll make Dan feel better to know that he’s making Phil feel better. He blinks slowly.

“Okay. But only if you have some with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :)
> 
> [like/reblog on tumblr :)](https://laddyplester.tumblr.com/post/174699376229/prompt-for-dan-leaving-the-flat-without-his-phone)


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